High School Shenanigans
by MorallyEvil
Summary: A story of how two supposed enemies overcome the odds and fall in love. Kyman.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! This is my first fanfiction so forgive me if I make any rookie mistakes. In this story, Stan and gang are ****all 16. The main pairing will be Kyman, and maybe some side pairings in the future. Hope you enjoy! :D**

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**Kyle's POV**

"Fuck off, fatass, you're not copying my homework this time!" I barked out at Cartman as crowds of students sauntered down the hallway, just like any other school day.

"But Kahhhlll…" Cartman whined in his high-pitched voice, as he dragged out my name.

"No way, Cartman! Do your own fucking homework for once!" I slammed my locker shut and pointed an accusing finger towards his chest.

"But Kahhhlll, I already told you I was busy this weekend and couldn't do my homework!" Cartman continued speaking in that annoying voice, feigning innocence.

"Busy doing what? Stuffing your face with Cheesy Poofs?" I scoffed as I started walking away.

"Aye, fuck you, Kyle! I'm not fat anym-" _Brrringgg! _"Fine! I guess I'll just copy from someone else, stingy Jewrat!" Cartman flipped me off, and stomped down the hallway. I rolled my eyes and headed to my first class.

It's true though, he isn't fat anymore. He hasn't been, for almost 3 years now. 3 years ago during summer break, his crack whore of a mother realized that if he were to get any bigger she would soon have had to declare bankruptcy due to the overwhelming demand of food. So she packed his bags, stuffed him into a cab and sent him off to yet another fat camp. Except this time, 3 months later, on the first day of school, Eric Cartman entered the hallways of South Park High School, a completely new person. Well, he was still racist, he was still self-centered, he was still intolerant, and he was still a manipulative sociopath. Okay, maybe he didn't change _that_ much, but he did lose a lot of weight. I mean, _a lot_ of weight. It was as if he was originally two people and one of them disappeared. After that, he took up swimming and gained some muscle tone. He seemed to have outgrown his fear of first graders' pee in the swimming pool. Although it would be hilarious to know that Cartman swims in a pool full of prepubescent pee.

However, I can't say that I haven't changed myself. One day in 6th grade, I went all Britney Spears and shaved off my horrendous fucking Jewfro. I guess I was still a little scarred from the incident with the list, where I was voted least good-looking(something I am still teased about by Cartman to this day), and I just felt like getting rid of that hideous Jewfro. Not that anyone noticed anyways, then, I was still wearing my hat over my bald head. Now, my hair has all grown out, forming flaming red curls that frame my face nicely. So my hat is gone too. Cartman had reminded me countlessly that I looked like a chick though, but who cares what he thinks, I didn't need to take shit from someone who constantly has bedhead.

"-le…? Kyle!" Stan's voice jolted me back to the present. "Did fatass try to copy your homework again? I could hear you guys bickering from the entrance."

"Yeah, he didn't get to, though." I said smugly, a smirk creeping onto my face.

Out of all four of us, Stan turned out exactly the way everyone expected him to be. Football quarterback, tall, buff, an all-star athlete. He's still with Wendy, who also turned out exactly the way everyone expected her to. Pretty, smart, popular. She stopped being friends with Bebe Stevens a long time ago, back when Stan and Wendy were still breaking up and getting back together every few weeks, Bebe broke one of the most important rules of friendship, "Bros before Hoes."(Well, the female version of it), and tried to hook up with Stan. She failed pathetically though, to Wendy's delight, because as soon as she tried to stick her tongue down his throat he served her a mouthful of barf.

Said vomiter turned at the corner of the hallway and entered his history class. I muttered a soft goodbye and continued walking down the hallway towards my English class.

So, speaking of Bebe Stevens, she'd long gotten over her crush on me but still to this day, stand by her her words that I've got "a great ass" and that she is willing to "wear my ass as a hat for all eternity". I wouldn't give her the chance to though, because 1) She's a great big hoe-bag 2) I'm gay.

Yup, I'm gay. It's not surprising though, I've never liked girls, and when I was younger I thought it was because every girl in my class was about as interesting as a sack of potatoes, but I eventually realized that I've never liked girls because I _didn't_ like girls. What was _more_ surprising was finding out who I had grown interest in. I realized I was gay when I was in 6th grade. In 6th grade, everyone's hormones took over and just like the 6th graders I knew when I was in 4th grade, my friends started to mutate into breasts-obsessed porn addicts. While everyone else started to take an interest in jiggly lumps of _fat_ (what was so bonerific about _that_?), I started to notice different things. How Kenny's filthy blond hair was pretty attractive. How Stan had dark blue, captivating eyes. How Butters had soft, duck-fluff hair that I could play with all day. How good-looking the guys I had grown up with actually really were.

But back to what I was saying, I started developing an interest in a guy some time during the summer break 3 years ago. The 3 months Cartman was off in fat camp, working his jelly rolls off. See, I thought that summer break would be amazing without him, which was why I spent weeks helping Liane plan for the big day(the day Cartman gets sent to fat camp), I helped covering up for her, I helped packing his bags for her, I helped loading the suitcases into the car for her on the big day. I also may or may not have planted some laxatives in his mountain dew Liane had packed for him, just for a head start on his fat loss. But when he was gone, sure, I had fun with Stan and Kenny. We had sleepovers, we went to amusement parks, we had video game marathons, but something was missing. Without Cartman's taunting and constant insults, something didn't feel right. During the first few weeks of summer, I was still handling the situation well. But one month in and I started drifting away from conversations with Stan and Kenny, during which I would think about how Cartman was doing in fat camp. When I _was _listening to them converse, I often thought about what Cartman would have said in that situation, how Cartman would've thought of a better comeback than Kenny. When we were eating, I thought about how Cartman would order pretty much everything on the menu, and still finish the food faster than any of us. Everything was Cartman, Cartman, Cartman. I even started _dreaming_ about him insulting me, calling me a Jewrat, and making fun of me. When he got back from fat camp, things went back to normal. Cartman continued throwing insults after insults at me, I get pissed off and yell at him, he insults me some more, I scream at him, he screams at me, and so on. However, I've spent long nights, wide awake on my bed, pondering over the fact that I actually _missed _Cartman when he was gone, then eventually grossing myself out with the idea that I might even have the slightest interest in Eric Cartman, I force myself to go to sleep.

So to sum it all up, I'm Kyle Broflovski, I'm 16 years old, Jewish, gay, and possibly interested in a self-centered, intolerant prick who idolizes Hitler, dances with a cardboard cut-out of Justin Timberlake, and has tea parties with his dolls. Oh, and he also hates every inch of my being. I am, in short, a hot fucking mess.

**Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it, I would really appreciate it if you would leave a review or just follow this story :) Feel free to point out any mistakes I've made or things I have to work on, because I also really want to improve on my English. Bye! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Kyle's POV**

"Stan? Can I tell you something?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm gay."

Stan eyes widened as his pile of books scattered all over the hallway floor. I leaned against my locker, unconsciously biting my lower lip as I waited for his reply. We were both heading to study hall and since everyone else was already off to class, I decided that it was the perfect time to come out to Stan. Of course, I didn't just make that decision in an instant. A long time ago, I realized that everyone has something like a container to keep all their feelings. When too much emotions are stored inside the container it eventually overflows and everything comes spilling out. I wouldn't want that to happen, so I decided awhile back that it would be best to take baby steps and come out to my super best friend first. There just never was a good time for that to happen.

"O-Oh.." He muttered as he hastily picked up his books. An awkward silence ensued as Stan dropped his gaze to his shoes. A million thoughts zoomed through my mind as I stood in front of him, waiting for him to speak up. _What if he's known it all along? What if he doesn't believe me? What if he's totally disgusted? _

"Is.. Is it really that surprising?" my voice broke the silence, sounding more vulnerable than I preferred it to be.

"Not really, I kind of suspected it but I didn't think you'd be so.. abrupt about it.." Cue another awkward silence.

"Uh, well.." He cleared his throat, "I'm supportive of who you are, Kyle. And I'm really glad that you told me about this." I heaved an audible sigh of relief as I felt a huge weight being lifted off my shoulders.

"Do your parents know yet?" I noticeably flinched at that question as I shook my head slowly.

"Take your time, dude." He patted me on the back empathetically while I hanged my head, thinking about how I should break it to my parents. I'd been putting it off for far too long, I'll have to tell them sometime. Stan seemed to notice me deep in thoughts, and tried to lighten up the mood.

"So… are you like, totally hot for me, then?" I chuckled lightly and punched him in the shoulder.

"Nah, I kind of.. might have someone else… in mind,"

"Who?"

"Umm… you might not be able to take this easily…" I scratched the back of my neck.

"Dude, just tell me!"

"Uhh.. Cartman."It was the first time I'd ever admitted that to anyone. It felt good. Stan stopped dead in his tracks and turned to stare at me in utter disbelief. "Um… funny isn't it? How we are supposed to be enemies and stuff…"

I croaked out a few short, awkward laughs before silence enveloped the hallway again. Stan continued boring his eyes into mine with such immense intensity, I feel like my eyes might just burst into flames in the middle of the hallway.

"You can't be serious." He finally said, and I simply stared at him with a look of absolute certainty. "Kyle, do you know how many times he's tried to kill you? How can you possibly be interested in someone who loves making you miserable?"

"I… I don't know.." I was really starting to warm up to the idea of how fucked up I was. He had a point. Why was I even the slightest bit interested with someone who had done nothing but make my entire 16 years of existence a living hell? What the hell was wrong with me?

"Listen, Kyle, I'm totally cool with you being gay, but right now I can't deal with knowing you have interests in Eric Cartman without wanting to barf. Just give me some time, alright? I'll see ya later." and with that, Stan turned on his heel and scurried towards the library.

"Stan! Ugh!" I kicked my locker in frustration. The sound of my shoe colliding with the metallic blue steel echoed through the hallway. I made a mental note _not _to mention who I was interested in the next time I come out to someone. If my mom finds out that I'm hot for Hitler Jr., she would blow a fucking gasket. I run my fingers through my fiery curls frantically as I let out a disturbed groan.

"'Sup, fag? Had a lover's tiff with your butt-buddy?" the last voice I would like to hear at that moment booms loudly in the hallway.

"Fuck off, fatass. I don't wanna deal with you right now." I said curtly, rowdily opening my locker and grabbing my books for study hall.

"You two butt pirates should just get over it and make out. When you guys fight, you turn into a whiny, girly, bitchy Jew while he turns into a faggy, over-dramatic Goth. It's really pathetic, you know."

I slammed my locker shut, shoved him out of my way and stomped towards the library. I couldn't deal with Cartman right now.

**Cartman's POV**

"Damn, what's up his vagina?" I muttered as he stomped his way to the library like a huffy girl. I sighed as I continued my walk towards the bathroom. He was in one of those moods again, one of those moods that meant he had a some sort of disagreement with Stan. _Stan._ Motherfucking Stan. Always ruining my fun. Every time I throw an insult at Kyle, if he just blatantly ignores me, it meant it had something to do with Stan. That tree-hugging hippie should just stick to his tree-hugging hippie girlfriend, and leave Kyle and I the hell alone. He's always got Kyle's fucking attention, always bitching and moaning to Kyle about his stupid relationship problems, not knowing that Kyle is probably totally hot for him.

I openly ogle Kyle from behind. He wasn't wearing his green ushanka today, which was great because his hair shouldn't be all held up in a fucking piece of fabric, it was much better off on his face. He was wearing a blue T-shirt that clung to his body in all the right place, and skinny jeans. Those skinny, fucking jeans that made him look so fucking sexy. The jeans that accentuate his lean legs and his perfectly perky ass. I swear, those jeans have got heads turning, male or female, when he sashays down the hallway. God, I sound so fucking gay. But I'm not. I'm not gay, I'm just, for some unfathomable reason, in love with Kyle Broflovski.

Let's back up for awhile, it started in 4th grade, when Kyle and his family moved to San Francisco. I was ecstatic, or at least I thought so. Within days of him being gone, I started itching for someone to rip on. I tried to fill the void by calling Butters a stupid Jew, who just stood there and took it like the pussy he was. When I learnt about the cloud of smug from George Clooney's acceptance speech combining with that of San Francisco to create the perfect storm of self-satisfaction, enough to destroy the whole of San Francisco, I felt an overwhelming urge to get Kyle back in South Park. Which I did. And to this day, he doesn't know it was me. I've thought of using it against him when he calls me a self-centered asshole who would never care about anyone else but me(which happens about every time I talk to him), but I just know that he would stop bickering with me and start being nice to me. That, I cannot stand. Because I love arguing with Kyle over small matters, I love how he speaks through gritted teeth when he gets angered, and I love how he sends electrifying chills through my body when he yells at me. I love Kyle Broflovski.

In 6th grade Kyle shaved off his head, and for that whole year he tried to cover it up by wearing his ushanka everywhere. Not a lot of people noticed, but I did. It then took him at least a whole year for his hair to grow out. Finally, one day in 7th grade, he came to school without his ushanka, and got my eyes bulging out of their sockets the moment I saw him. He looked like a fucking girl. A pretty one, at that. His flaming red curls framed his face surprisingly well, making his shocking green eyes stand out even more. It was the first time I realized how mesmerizing his eyes were. They were just, so fucking green. Sometimes I have to look away when I'm arguing with him, just so I don't get caught gawking at his emerald orbs.

God, I am so fucking gay. For Kyle. Only Kyle.

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**Kyle's POV**

It's been a long weekend, I'd spent it on my bed, stuffing my face with ice cream while watching reruns of Terrance and Phillip. Which would have been great, if my super best friend wasn't ignoring me all weekend. I didn't understand, what was so hard to accept about me being gay? It's not as if I'd ever had a serious relationship with a girl. Then again, I _did _mention the fact that I might have a crush of Cartman. But, it's all over now, Stan had sent me a text in the morning, telling me that as long as I never, ever, remind him that I'm infatuated with Cartman, he would be fine. I, of course, gladly agreed to his condition. I sigh contentedly as I trudge down the unshoveled sidewalk of South Park High. _Fucking snow. _ I curse in my head, entering the noisy hallway. Everyone's eyes seemed to focus on me for a second. Their boisterous chattering then quieted down to soft murmurs and whispers. The very noticeable change in voice level concerned me a little bit; I do not have a good feeling about this. Every time something like this happens, it means some sort of big rumor has spread across the entire school; like that one rumor years ago about Clyde Donovan having only one testicle(which was true, by the way, I'd seen him use the urinal. Not something I ever want to witness again. Ever.). And rumors spread like wildfire in a small town like South Park, so the fact that I wasn't informed of this irked me. A lot. The walk to from the doorway to my locker was ridiculously vexing. People seemed to be studying me. Sending me scrutinizing looks, but when I look up to meet their stares, they eyes dart to the front and they pretend like nothing had happened. People were avoiding me like the plague. When I reached my locker I had already come to the horrifying conclusion that there was definitely a rumor about me. I was wishing Stan would have been there to clear things up for me, but he wasn't there. _Did they find all the gay porn in my computer?_ _Fuck, did they find out I was gay? _I shook off that thought as I dialed my locker combination. _No way, Stan wouldn't tell anyone. _After 2 failed attempts to open my god damn locker, I finally succeed and fling open the door to grab my books. _Screw this, I'm gonna be late soon._ I thought, trying to shake off my anxiety but failing miserably. When I stuck my head inside my locker looking for my Geography textbook, I see a torn piece of paper lying on top of my pile of books. A strong feeling of unease shot up my spine as I reached out and picked it up. I flipped the piece of paper and there, written in red ink and god awful handwriting, three capital letters that spelled out the word, "Fag".

I gasped and paled, dropping the piece of paper as if it had caught fire and had burnt my fingers. Everything else around me was in fast-forward while I stood in the middle of it all, staring into space. It was as if my brain short-circuited and needed to be rebooted. How could this happen? I started to have a flashback; one that I had been having all weekend. Stan and I heading to class. Me telling Stan that I was gay. Stan accepting it. Me telling him that I was interested in Cartman. Stan not accepting it. Stan walking away. Cartman pissing me off when I was trying to catch up with Stan. Cartman. Cartman. Cartman. My eyes widened in comprehension as my mind flew into a state of disarray. _Cartman was there. Cartman heard. Cartman heard, laughed, and spread. _My normally calm and pleasant demeanor quickly vanished as my face contorted in fury. I crushed the piece of paper and scanned the hallway for a certain brown-eyed brunette. My gaze fixed in on him, merely 5 feet away from me, gathering his things for class. I shut my locker with a deafening _clang_ as I stalked towards him. He seemingly noticed my outburst of anger and stared at me with a look of confusion. _The nerve of him._

**Cartman's POV**

A booming slam of a locker echoed down the hallway. Another douchebag slammed his locker again. Hearing the loud _clang _of the locker door closing never fails to piss me off. I rolled my eyes in annoyance and continue gathering my books. _Clomp. Clomp. Clomp. _Ahh, the sound of angry footsteps approaching me. My mood lightens up as I concluded that my favorite Jew was here to pick a fight with me again. My mood falls the moment I lay eyes on him. Flared nostrils, eyes wide and glazed over with ferocity, cheeks flushed, and jaws clenched. Uh oh, I knew this look. This meant Kyle wasn't just pissed off or irritated, it meant he was seriously pissed, livid, even. And the fact that he was this pissed, sent my heart aflutter with anticipation and excitement. This was going to be fun.

"You fucking did this!" he screamed as he shoved a piece of crushed-up paper onto my chest. I retrieved it and opened it up: Fag. I quirked an eyebrow; now I was _really_ confused.

"What's that? I didn't fucking write that, Jew."

"I know you didn't, fucktard! You caused it!"

"I don't know what the hell you are talking about, kike!" I mentally slap myself in the face for using that word. He hates that word the most, and right now I didn't need him to get any more pissed.

His eyes flash for a nanosecond, revealing a look of hurt, before going back to being completely furious. For a moment, he looked like he was about to slap me, but instead, he took a deep breath, and said to me in a serious tone, "You know, I never thought you hated me so much that you would go to the extent of ruining my life. I thought, we were at least 'frenemies'. I guess I was wrong. You could've told me how much you hated me, and I would've left you alone. But since now my life is ruined, I guess you're finally happy. Fuck you."

He flipped me off, and scurried off somewhere else. Leaving me utterly, and completely confused. After taking a moment to process my thoughts, I was struck by an overwhelming wave of guilt. _Fuck, did I hurt him?_ I still had absolutely no fucking idea why he was so pissed, but I was certain of one thing, that I apparently did something to "ruin his life", and if I don't fix it, I don't think he will ever talk to me again. I kicked my locker in disgruntlement and left for class, steadily ignoring looks that were being sent my way, by people who'd just witnessed Kyle's temper tantrum. I didn't have time to tell these people to fuck off, because I had only one thing in my mind;

_What the fuck did I do wrong?_

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**Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, I'm not sure when I will update next, because I have piles of homework accumulated over the holidays that are still untouched, so… yeah.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for not updating recently, school's starting soon, so I'm currently rushing all my homework... enjoy!**

**Chapter 3**

**Kyle's POV**

Things went better than expected.

It's been one hell of a week, with each passing day, more and more people found out that I was gay. There'd been questions and clarifications thrown my way all week. I can't wait to get home. Things _were_ a lot better than I'd expected. I used to think that random people would just start shoving me into lockers, beating me up and calling me names. But nope, none of that. Other than that one piece of paper discovered in my locker on Monday, there was nothing else. It was as if no one even knew that I was gay.

And _that _was something to worry about. In a small town like South Park, no news go unnoticed. People lose their shit over the smallest things possible. The fact that no one did anything to me after knowing I was gay was alarmingly suspicious. Call me paranoid, but all week there was just this underlying tension lurking in the classrooms, hallways, cafeteria, everywhere in school. However, although I knew something bad was going to happen really soon, I desperately clung onto this small shred of hope, that things are going to be alright. But as time ticked on slowly, that tiny amount of hope was starting to fade away.

I shake off my uneasiness rather unsuccessfully as I stepped into my history class. As soon as I enter the classroom, my eyes travel towards my left and catches sight of Eric Cartman. He was sitting at the back of the classroom, flicking paper footballs at Butters, who had the misfortune of sitting directly in front of him for a whole year. I made my way gingerly to the back of the classroom, where I was sitting right beside him. Luckily, Mr Garrison insists on all his students sitting in single-file rows, so there is a small spacing between his table and mine. I hadn't talked to him for the whole week. Rumors about me were still spreading like wildfire, and it's almost impossible to trace it back to the culprit. But I'm 110% sure that it was Cartman. Right? Stan wouldn't tell anyone. Right.

But something didn't feel right. Cartman hadn't made an attempt to talk to me either. No teasing, no gay-bashing slurs, nothing. He hadn't insulted me all week. And… I kind of want him to. Is that bad? Definitely. I can't help it. I've had a nagging feeling at the back of my head all week, telling to me pick a fight with Cartman, because I've been itching for his verbal abuse. God, I'm so fucked up. I ruffle my hair and snap myself out of it as Mr Garrison enters the classroom.

"Alright, class, today we're going to talk about Martin Luther King Jr. and his contribution to society…" Mr Garrison's Southern accent starts to fade out as my eyes drift from my History textbook up to Butters, whose head was still getting ambushed mercilessly, and finally up to Cartman. I stare blankly at Cartman as he tears paper from his notebook and folds them into little footballs. His tongue sticks out unconsciously as he folded the footballs with intense concentration. It stays like that for awhile, me tuning Mr Garrison's boring lecture out as Cartman continues folding.

"Take a picture, Jew. It'll last longer." Cartman said, without looking up from his paper footballs.

I flushed and tore my gaze away from Cartman, and back to my History book. I'm not enjoying the fact that I felt a jolt of delight when he called me a Jew.

"So, during the Montgomery Bus Boycott of 1955, Martin Luther King Jr. devised a plan…" I tuned Mr Garrison out again. Can't blame me. History class is so boring, Mr Garrison himself wouldn't want to listen to his own lecture. I scan the classroom and at least half the students are daydreaming. My eyes land on the table to my right yet again. He's flinging paper footballs at Butters again, who was intently copying notes as Mr Garrison blabbered on. Kenny, who was sitting in front of me, tousled Butters hair in an attempt to get rid of the little footballs on his head. Then, he turned out around and gave Cartman the bird.

"Ha, you're such a fag, Butters." Cartman snickered to himself as he continued flicking. I rolled my eyes heavenwards. _How childish is he? _I thought. Then again, it was pretty amusing seeing Butters completely oblivious to the dozens of paper footballs clinging onto his blond, duck-fluff hair.

"Kyle! Are you paying attention?" Mr Garrison bellowed from the front of the class. I jumped in shock and frantically flipped through my History book as if I was looking for a page to read.

"Yes, Mr Garrison."

"Good, now stop eye-fucking Eric and start acting like you give a damn about History!" Mr Garrison barked out, then turned back towards the chalkboard and continued teaching nonchalantly. "Now class, who can tell me about the 'I Have A Dream' speech of 1963?"

I feel my face redden as I fold my arms on the table and lay my head down. The sound of paper footballs colliding with Butters' head stopped, and I can feel Cartman's eyes fixate on me as I sink my face even further into my arms. I stay like that for the rest of the lesson, listening to Mr Garrison's monotonous voice while trying to shut out the premonition of disaster that had been clouding my mind the entire week.

* * *

I straighten out my PE shirt and tie my shoelaces, then head towards the gymnasium with Stan. We walk down the hallway wearing the exact same outfit; a ridiculously oversized tee-shirt, with the words "South Park High" obnoxiously spread out on the front and the school logo stretched out across the back, baggy,knee-length gym shorts, and dull, gray-colored gym shoes. In short, we look terrible. We used to have decent-looking PE attires, but Principal Victoria from South Park Elementary was promoted to be principal of South Park High, and she has horrible taste in clothing.

"We look like shit. Someone needs to call the fashion police and save us all." I state my thoughts out loud.

"I know, dude. Principal Victoria has single-handedly set fashion back by a decade." I chuckle at this before the conversation comes to a halt. It's been like this all week. Stan and I have been making small talk since Monday and I don't think we've had a conversation longer than 10 minutes. He's had this glazed over look every time he talked to me, like his mind is always somewhere else. It has to be something to do with Wendy. If anyone can throw Stan off his track for so long, it's Wendy. She's got him whipped.

"Hey, uh.. did anything happen between you and Wendy..?"

"No, why?"

"Nothin', just asking." Silence falls again. I groan inwardly and quicken my steps towards the gym. I can't stand awkward situations.

* * *

"Alright, kids. Today, we're gonna play dodgeball. So form your teams and go grab some balls."

Craig and his groupies snigger at this. What's so funny about that? I roll my eyes for the second time that day. It amazes me how immature people can still be at the age of 16. Craig notices my obvious annoyance at them and flips me off stoically. He seems to think profoundly for a second, then decides that one isn't enough, and raises his other hand to flip me off as well. _Real mature._ His groupies look up at me and send me each a glower before turning back to their ringleader and conversing excitedly.

"Now, don't screw around, kids. Dodgeball can be pretty dangerous so don't - hey! Did you just flip me off?" Mr Adler scowls at Craig.

"No."

"Yes, you did!"

Craig flips Mr Adler off with both hands.

"Craig, one more time and you get out! Quit screwin' around!" Mr Adler bellows from the front of the gymnasium. Then he takes out a framed picture of his dead fiancée, sits on the floor, and replays the memories of his fiancée's death. It's become a tradition ever since he became our gym teacher. Chef used to be our gym teacher. Then he died. And now, in his place, is our old shop class teacher, Mr Richard Adler. The overweight, empty shell of a man, with a dead fiancée and a band-aid for an unknown injury gracing his balding forehead. I don't even know what the band-aid is for, it's been there forever. I bet it stinks. Ugh.

The 2 teams move towards the ends of the gymnasium, everyone clutching onto a dodgeball of their own. As everyone prepares to start hurling dodgeballs towards the other team, I search the gym for Stan, he seems to be MIA, and as I continue examining the room, a dodgeball hovering in the air catches my attention. Eric Cartman stands around ten feet away from me, tossing his dodgeball in the air and catching it, then tossing it in the air again. The gym shirt fits him surprisingly well, considering the fact that it wasn't preposterously oversized to the point where it looks like a dress. His chestnut hair swishes gently every time the dodgeball lands in his hands. The steady rhythm of his body rising and lowering as he tosses and catches the dodgeball keeps my eyes fixed on him. As I continue um, studying Cartman _not so discreetly,_ I hardly notice the members of my team slowly shuffling their way over to the over side of the gym, exchanging whispers and glances.

When I sensed the absence of people on my side of the gymnasium, it was too late. I turned my head towards the crowd of students standing opposite of me and..

_Wham!_

Right into my gut. I collapsed onto the floor, clenching my stomach as I tried to regain the air that got knocked out of me. Craig, empty-handed, led the army of students my way. Loud, disorganized footsteps echoed throughout the gymnasium as I try to wrap my head around the whole situation.

"Dude, Craig, what the fu-" _Bam! Slam!_

Two dodgeballs attacked my face and aching stomach respectively. My left hand flew up to cover my face as my right clutches my stomach. Before I can even register the full intensity of the pain, dodgeballs began raining down on me.

_Slam._

_Wham._

_Boom._

_Bam._

I think I'm losing control of my limbs.

_Bam._

Nope, I can definitely still feel them. My vision is becoming tunneled. I feel like I'm going to pass out, but with each fresh strike I get jolted back into my body with a shooting pain, acutely conscious of every spot the dodgeballs charge mercilessly at. I see the faces of each and everyone of the attackers, although it's as if I'm viewing them from a telescope. I hear anguished grunts and agonized shouts. I hear enthusiastic cheering.

"Fag!" Someone voices up in the midst of all the chaos.

I can't tell who it is over all the cheering and shouting. I realize the pained sounds were coming from me. I feel like a hundred daggers are sinking into me. I finally spot Stan through half-lidded eyes, standing away from the excited crowd, holding onto his dodgeball and glancing at me worriedly. I don't have the energy to feel betrayed or angry. My vision gets blurrier with every passing dodgeball. I wonder when this is going to end. My eyes are almost completely shut until-

"STOP!"

I feel myself being hoisted up by someone. I summon the last of my strength to force my eyes open just a little bit. Before my vision became completely black, I caught sight of a mop of disheveled, brown hair.

* * *

**Was that okay? I really rushed the whole thing, especially towards the ending, what with all the dodgeballs and stuff. So if it was not up to standard please forgive me..**


End file.
